I'm Dying to Catch My Breath
by chalantness
Summary: She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.
1. philia

**Title:** _I'm Dying to Catch My Breath_ [1/3] _  
_ **Rating:** PG-13 (this chapter) / M (overall)  
 **Word Count:** ~6,000 (this chapter)  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, and The Avengers  
 **Prompts:** a lot  
 **Summary:** She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.

 **A/N:** I'm apologizing in advance for how long it'll take me to get Parts 2 and 3 out to you considering how long it took me to put this first part together.

There are about fourteen different prompts that helped me put this together, so thank you to all of those who've submitted them over the past couple of years! (Yes, _years._ ) Unfortunately, I can no longer link to those prompts and credit those who submitted them because my original blog got deleted. I _was_ able to save the original wording of the prompts, though, so once all three parts are up, I'll post the original prompts and _hopefully_ those of you that submitted them may recognize them and let me know, so I can give you guys the proper dedications!

 **I'm Dying to Catch My Breath [1/3]**

Three days after Sokovia, and piecing together the wreckage that was left from it, they make it back to New York.

It's late enough when they land that it'll be dawn in a matter of hours, which is maybe just as well, because The Avengers coming home would've been a whole scene if it'd happened any closer to morning. As it was, there was a small crowd already camping out by Tony and Pepper's New York penthouse, and they'd had to drive around the back to avoid being seen. She doesn't want to know how long those journalists and photographers waited just to get a damn picture and some sound bite they'll spin terribly out of proportion. She doesn't _care_. She's too tired to care about anything, frankly _._ She aches all the way down to her bones, and she's going to get in a few decent hours of sleep while the dust is settling around them.

Natasha knows that Tony had called Pepper to let them know they were coming, and of course the woman took it upon herself to be prepared.

There're blankets and pillows for everyone, and sweatpants and white shirts to change into, and she makes tea while they take showers in shifts. There are more bathrooms in this place than is necessary, but hell. There are also _a lot_ of them staying the night.

Natasha wonders, briefly, how the woman could be okay with housing so many people on such short notice – three of which are perfect strangers, and two of those strangers had, for the better half of the last few days, had their hearts _set_ on revenge against Tony, and of course Pepper was made aware of that. But then she remembers that it's _Pepper_. She doesn't have to put up with any of this, but she does, because it's worth it to her. She will always try to keep up with all the craziness they bring because that's how much she cares for them.

Natasha showers in the bathroom of one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, then sits on the edge of the bed after she's changed and dries her hair with a towel.

There's a knock on the door, and then Steve's voice asks, "Natasha?"

"You can come in," she replies.

The door opens and he walks in, pillows tucked under one arm and a blanket tucked under the other. "Pepper wanted to make sure you and Maria had enough in here."

Natasha glances to the bed, with its patterned duvet and abundance of matching pillows. "I think we'll be fine," she says, lips curving into a bit of a grin.

He chuckles softly and walks over to the chair in the corner, setting everything on top of it. She knows he and Clint are sharing the guest bedroom next to hers and Maria's, because she'd heard Pepper leading them there right before she'd gotten into the shower. She wonders, sometimes, what those two talk about when she isn't around.

She shakes her head. It's really none of her business, but she can't always help where her mind wanders.

"What?" he asks.

She shakes her head again. "It's nothing." It really isn't. Nothing that needs to be discussed here and now, and with him, of all people.

He presses his lips together, crosses the distance between them in a few strides and sits down beside her, distracted for a moment as she continues wringing the tips of her hair out with the towel. She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.

Then he meets her gaze and her hands pause for a moment. If he asked her to, she'd spill her heart out to him just as easily as she did the first time. She would in a _second_.

(But he doesn't, and she's glad. She really, really does not need to have that conversation with him right now.)

"I thought you were going to die," he says, so softly that, even with how close they're sitting, she almost doesn't catch it.

"I did, too," she replies, voice coming out hallow.

"No, not – not then." He hesitates, and she knows they're both picturing that moment, standing on the edge of the city. She hadn't been joking then. The view _was_ beautiful. "I meant when you'd been taken. We couldn't find you at first, and I thought – I thought…"

He shakes his head ever so slightly. He either can't say the words again, or he won't. (Maybe there isn't a difference.)

"I'm alright," she tells him, because it seems like it needs to be said – like _he_ needs it to be said.

He nods, glancing over her. She remembers doing that same thing a year ago. They'd found him on the edge of the water, beaten and bruised and _barely_ breathing, and she couldn't bring herself to stop looking at him. Half of her felt like she'd been imagining things, like he couldn't _really_ still be alive. Not because she'd been wishing he wasn't, but because it'd be too good to be true. She wouldn't know _how_ she'd react to him dying. She just knows that she got spared from finding that out, and that's the kind of luck that _never_ happens to her.

(No, she knows. She definitely knows how much losing him would've hit her. If she means half to him as he means to her, she can understand why he's so shaken right now.)

She turns to face him a little more, and they're sitting close enough that her knee brushes against his with the movement. "I'm alright," she repeats, voice softer.

He glances over her again, then meets her gaze, nodding once.

There's a pause, but it's not uncomfortable. Neither of them speaks, though, and when he stands up from the bed, she thinks that will be that.

But then he reaches over, places his hand on her arm, above her elbow, and leans down. She closes her eyes as she feels his lips brush against her cheek, smiles a little more as he squeezes her arm ever so slightly.

"Get some rest," he tells her. She nods, and there's a moment of hesitation before he pulls away.

... ...

The media and every government official on the planet, it seems, has something to say and a list of questions that they demand get answered. It's nothing that The Avengers haven't dealt with before, and that doesn't make it any less distressing when they have to go through it, but it's easier for them to maintain their composure. Tony has taken most of the heat and it's not as if this is unexpected, but he's handling it well. He's not dismissing his direct involvement and she knows – they _all_ know – how hard it is for him to do that. His biggest fear was not being able to save them, and yet, it's his involvement that nearly got everyone killed. None of them are holding it against him, except maybe Pietro and Wanda, and they blame him for more than just Ultron. For now, though, they're civil with Tony, and they're willing to stand with the rest of them when it comes to advocating for the man, so it's a start.

After two weeks of senate meetings and court appearances and television interviews, things start to settle down for the most part. It's going to be a while before everyone really _moves on_ from something as big as this, like it had been with New York. And there will _always_ be someone, somewhere, trying to blame The Avengers for something.

But it's nothing they can't handle.

... ...

She has an apartment in New York, one that Tony pays for and neither of them have talked about, other than when he'd first given her the key.

This was after Washington D.C. and Hydra and the collapse of SHIELD, and she found herself in New York before she was going to leave the country altogether. She knows Tony had given the same offer to Maria – a job at Stark Industries and a place to live, until she wanted to pick something out for herself – and maybe if Natasha wasn't itching to get as far away from all of the cameras and questions, she would've taken it. It was almost too good to pass up. But she did, and he didn't seem surprised. He made her promise to send postcards.

(It had been his way of saying that he'd miss her, but they never talked about that, either.)

The place is great – wide and spacious, with tall windows and a beautiful view of the skyline – and there're more rooms than she needs. It's a lot bigger than anything she'd pick out for herself, but definitely something Tony would pick out _for_ her.

It's nice.

They're all sitting in a private room of this restaurant in the hotel that Pietro and Wanda are staying at for the time being. They weren't entirely comfortable with continuing to stay at Tony and Pepper's with the others, though they did thank Tony for taking them in that first night. Tony set them up with a hotel suite while they'd had to stay in New York and make appearance after appearance with the rest of The Avengers to address what'd happened in Sokovia. But now that that's finished, there's really no reason for them to stay in New York.

There's also no reason for them to leave, either. That's another one of the things they're trying to figure out, now that the storm has passed.

"They can stay with me," Natasha offers, sipping on her mimosa.

Pietro and Wanda sort of glance at each other, surprised, and then at her, and yeah. Natasha isn't entirely sure where this is coming from, either. But it makes sense. She knows that the twins are just starting to get comfortable with the city, so staying with either Steve or Sam back in Washington D.C. wouldn't make much sense. And, other than herself and then Tony and Pepper, Maria is the only other person who lives in New York. She has the rooms to offer, just like Natasha does, and she knows the woman wouldn't turn Pietro and Wanda away if they asked. But Maria is also very particular about her space, and she sort of houses Nick whenever the he's in town, and _he's_ even more particular about his space than she is.

Natasha doesn't need that whole apartment to herself, anyway. It's not a big deal if she lives on her own or has a roommate (or two).

"Thank you," Wanda says in this little voice. Her hand moves atop the table, as if to reach over to take hold of Natasha's, but she seems to decide against it. One thing they're learning about Wanda is that she's a very tactile person.

"No problem, kid," Natasha replies, and she catches Steve smiling at her in her peripheral.

... ...

It's getting warmer and warmer out now that summer is pretty much here, and Natasha gets out of bed a little earlier to get in a decent run before daybreak. She knows sweating is supposed to be good for you when you're working out, but she'd rather not run in the stagnant summer air with the sun in her eyes, thanks, anyway.

Wanda almost always runs with her (and Pietro never does, because the guy doesn't need to, and he loves sleeping in more than Natasha) but the girl is still asleep by the time Natasha's laced up and heading out the door, so it's fine. She knows Sam took Wanda and Pietro out for dinner and drinks since he just got back to New York for the weekend, and obviously he'd invited the rest of them, but she, Maria, Tony, and Nick had some things to talk about (biggest understatement of the decade, probably) and couldn't go with them.

She does laps around the park for about an hour before she gets bored of it and heads back to the apartment.

She's slowed to a fast walk by the time she turns the corner onto her street, but then the door to Starbucks swings open and someone's stepping outside, and Natasha manages to stop herself in time so that she just bumps into his shoulder.

"Steve?" she breathes. She recognizes him in a second, even if the rest of her is still a little disoriented from almost barreling into him.

He sort of blinks, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. His hand had reached out to grasp her arm and steady her as soon as she'd bumped into him, but she's already regained her footing, so he's sort of just holding onto her now. She doesn't mind. "Natasha," he greets, and maybe it's just her, but he sounds like he's a little breathless, too. "Hey."

"Hey," she echoes. He pulls her in for a hug, balancing his coffee, and doesn't seem to mind that she's all sweaty. She squeezes him a little tighter. "What are you doing here?"

He gives her a look, points a thumb behind him. "Visiting, obviously," he says.

She's smiling as she rolls her eyes. "I _meant_ , what are you doing in New York? I didn't realize you were in town."

"Well, considering I flew in with Sam, I'm here for the same reason he is. Of course," he continues, lips curving into a smirk. It's a _sexy_ look on him and she'll tell him as much if he ever asks. "If you'd come to dinner with us last night, you would already know."

She arches an eyebrow. "I was discussing important business and it ran a little long. Must be a foreign concept to you. How's your retirement to D.C. going, by the way?"

He chuckles. "I'm not _that_ old." She just grins. "And I've been working over there, too, you know. Sam and I had a lot of details to iron out."

"Yeah?" she asks, though she doesn't doubt it. If she'd been under the impression that this New Avengers Initiative was happening without Steve's involvement, she and Nick would've had words. "Why don't we head upstairs, Rogers? We can catch up while you make breakfast." He breathes out a laugh, falling into step beside her. "How long are you in town for?"

"A few days, at least," he answers. "I've got a bit of apartment-hunting to do."

She looks at him. He's pointedly staring ahead, but there's a bit of a smirk on his lips again, and it's kind of stupid how _happy_ this makes her.

... ...

Steve and Sam move in on the Fourth, and there're way too many of them here to help considering neither of them have much stuff to unpack in the first place. They grab brunch before and are still done unpacking everything before evening, so Sam gets the grill going on the porch and Tony produces alcohol from the trunk of his car, and Maria doesn't even pretend to not have had a cake made for Steve since it's, you know – his _birthday_. He didn't want them to make a fuss and technically they aren't. They're all just staying for dinner.

There isn't a dining room table, and there probably won't be, but that's fine. They sit in the living room and eat around the coffee table.

She's sitting next to Laura on the couch with Steve cross-legged at her feet, leaning against the arm for support. His shoulder keeps brushing against her calf and he's pretending to be too distracted to notice, but she catches the quirk of his lips.

She gets up to use the bathroom, and Steve is in the kitchen when she walks back out, rinsing off the dishes.

"They're making the birthday boy clean up at his own party?" she asks. He looks over his shoulder, smiling when he sees her. "I think you need new friends."

"He offered!" Tony calls from the living room as Steve says, "I offered to." Natasha laughs a little, shakes her head. "And this isn't my party."

She smirks, about to say how it technically is, because they had a birthday cake – but then there's a crackling from outside, and they turn their heads, watching through the glass as a firework goes off, coloring the sky. Wanda is off of the couch in seconds, and Pietro speeds over to slide open the door to the patio just in time for her to hurry through.

The others follow them out, and Natasha glances at Steve. "You don't want to watch your birthday fireworks?"

"They're not my fireworks," he tells her, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

"Are you always going to be this much of a bummer?" she asks. He just chuckles. "Because you're not going to make for a very fun neighbor if that's the case. And don't say that we're not _technically_ neighbors, since we're not right next door. We live in the next building. Is that not close enough for you?"

He hums softly, leaning in a little, and… she doesn't remember when she'd ended up in his space. She has to tilt her head back a little to meet his eyes.

"No," he says slowly. (She wonders, briefly, if he has even the smallest urge touch her right now. It kind of seems like he might.) "No, that's not close enough."

... ...

It's nice, not always being alone. Natasha didn't even know what that felt like until Pietro and Wanda had moved in, because now they share the same space, at the beginning and end of every day (more or less, whenever they weren't away on assignments overnight) and it was something she'd adapted to rather quickly.

She doesn't have to rely on takeout for dinner, because Wanda likes to cook for them, and whenever Natasha's in the mood to help, the girl enjoys the company. Pietro doesn't ever offer to lend a hand in the kitchen, but he keeps the place clean, trailing after the messes they leave – sticking coasters under glasses, putting blankets back into the linens closets, emptying the trash and taking down the recycling. And she and Wanda aren't all that messy to begin with. The guy just gets to everything before it can become a mess. Which is alright with Natasha, because she's not all that eager to pick up a duster or a vacuum all the time. She'll clean the bathrooms and the kitchen, pay for the groceries and cover the bills.

It all works out in the end.

She enjoys the company, too. They can lounge in the living room together and talk about whatever, but they can also just sit with each other without having to fill the quiet, and it's pretty great.

Tonight, she's on one end of the sectional, pouring over a stack of new recruit files in her lap. Pietro is stretched out on the other side, flipping too quickly through the channels, and Wanda sits between them, idly levitating her pen in the air by her hand as she marks up a psychology book in her lap.

"Mind if I borrow that for a second?" Natasha asks, already reaching for the pen. She doesn't glance up to notice that Wanda reaches for the thing, too, and when her fingertips graze Wanda's, there's a flash of red around her vision and Natasha flinches.

Her eyes cut to Wanda as the pen falls through the air, bouncing onto the couch between them. Pietro looks over at them and Wanda blinks a few times, surprised.

"Sorry," she says after a moment, sounding distracted. A strange expression crosses her face, but then it's gone in another moment.

"Everything alright, kid?" Natasha asks.

"Well, other than the fact that I levitate when I'm preoccupied, yes," Wanda replies, picking up the pen to hand it to Natasha. "At least I haven't done it with a knife yet."

Pietro chuckles and turns back the TV. Natasha grins and shakes her head. She's cute, this kid.

... ...

The New Avengers Facility opens at the end of July, and by the second week of August, operations have more or less settled in. There're agents working around the clock, it seems—in the labs, in the gym, on the field. They shut down almost two dozen more SHIELD facilities that'd been seized by Hydra during the Uprising, and meet with officials and leaders from a number of countries to rebuild connections and gain immunity. They're nowhere near the capacity of SHIELD, but things are falling together more quickly than anticipated, so it's fine.

They're getting there, and they're building something better. It'll take some time.

The team ends up in the gym after arms training, and they work with Pietro and Wanda on hand-to-hand for a good hour and a half before dispersing. She ends up sparring with Steve on the mats, and maybe it's kind of stupid, but she misses this—the way her muscles ache and her lungs burn and her gut swoops whenever his punch nearly grazes her.

He'd never, ever hurt her, but he never holds back with her, either. She can handle herself and she likes that he knows that.

She knocks him down three times before he manages to pin her, pressing her wrist to the small of her back. It doesn't hurt, but it's not comfortable, either.

"I'm pretty sure you cheated," she says, and he breathes out a laugh, grip loosening over her wrist.

His arm brushes against hers as he leans forward, chest pressing into her back a little as he props himself up with his elbow against the mat somewhere next to her. His breath is warm against her skin, and she knows that if she tried looking over her shoulder, his face would probably be inches away from hers.

Her skin is flushed and sweaty, and Steve's ridiculous body heat crowding her space isn't helping. But she feels a tingle slide down her spine, and has the strongest urge to shiver.

 _Focus, Natasha_.

"You alright?" he asks, voice close to her ear.

"Yeah," she breathes. She tilts her head, meeting his eyes.

"Best four out of seven?"

"You're on, Rogers."

... ...

The two of them track down the signatures of an extraterrestrial chemical being moved across Costa Rica. All things considered, everything goes smoothly. The facility it ends up in is a few good miles away from the nearest population, and its guard detail is almost nothing. A guy gets in a few nicks with his blade after she'd disarmed him, and there's a bruise or two on her arm that'll hurt more tomorrow than it does now, but she's fine. Agents swarm around them, collecting materials and taking the dealers into custody, and it's the first moment in the last few weeks that she really gets to just _stop_ and take everything in. She's been in five different countries over the span of three weeks and now it's all finally catching up to her.

There's actually a little lounge in the corner of this lab and she has the strongest urge to just sit down for a moment, so she does. It's fine. Her end of this assignment is up.

She sits on the couch and sinks against the cushions, taking a breath.

"You alright?"

Steve walks over, glancing at the couch, and she knows he's probably just as exhausted as she is. It's been a hectic few weeks.

"I am now," she answers, smoothing her hand over the spot beside her. "Care to join me?"

He breathes out a laugh and nods, pulling the shield off of his back and setting it down before settling onto the couch. She turns toward him a little more, crossing her legs, and for a moment she feels like closing her eyes. She won't, though. They're fine now, but she's still a little on edge, and that's just how she is when she's on an assignment.

"Sometimes I feel like those sixty years are finally catching up with me," he says, and she breathes out a laugh.

"Well, you are way passed the retirement age." He chuckles, shaking his head. "No one would blame you if you wanted to leave," she goes on, and maybe she's not joking as much this time. He turns to look at her. She shrugs. "Not everyone is made to do this for the rest of their lives."

"Are you?" he asks. There's something to his stare that feels _different_ , but she also knows she's seen it before. She just can't remember when.

She shrugs again, looking away. "I don't think I'm wired any other way. Missions and covers—the organizations have changed, but this has always been what I was made to do." It doesn't bother her anymore, though, and when she glances at Steve, somehow she knows that he understands. She doesn't believe in fate, but this? This is just something she's meant to do. She's probably never going to have some semblance of a normal life, probably never going to settle down. But at this point, it's not as if she deserves any of that, so.

"Guess that makes two of us," he says, giving her a bit of a smile, and if it's inappropriate that this makes her _laugh_ , he doesn't act like it is. He just smiles a little wider and lets her.

... ...

Coming home from an assignment after midnight always screws with her sleeping pattern, because she's usually too buzzed off of the adrenaline to get to sleep right away, so she ends up curling on the couch under a blanket and watching Netflix until daylight. Sometimes this can put her to sleep, but she's usually not that lucky.

It's a little after 4:00 in the morning when she gets back to the apartment, which is pretty late, even for her, so she doubts she'd be able to squeeze in a nap now. She knows that Pietro left for Dubai yesterday, and Wanda came back from London a few hours ago. Natasha doesn't expect the girl to still be awake, or for the TV to still be on, but that's what she comes home to, and it doesn't really hit her how comforting it is to actually _come home_ to someone until now. Wanda lifts her head and smiles when she sees Natasha, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders and tucking it under her chin. God, this girl is adorable. Natasha grins and walks around the couch, drops her bag onto the floor as she plops down.

"Rough mission?" Wanda asks.

" _Long_ mission," Natasha exhales, sliding off her shoes and tucking her legs up. Wanda shifts a little closer and draws the blanket over Natasha, too. "Thanks, kid."

"For what it's worth, London wasn't very exciting, either," Wanda says. Natasha laughs a little. "I suppose that's a good thing, though."

"Says who?" Natasha arches an eyebrow and Wanda giggles, shaking her head. "The target ended up being half of a criminal couple, so that made it more amusing, at least."

Wanda smiles a little, but it doesn't quite touch her eyes, either. "Your tone doesn't sound very amused."

Natasha exhales as she tips her head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling. "The girl almost lost it when I dragged the guy in. He was just unconscious, and I think even she could tell, but—she still went crazy. Like she knew it was because of her that he'd gotten mixed up in all of this in the first place." Natasha shakes her head. "Love is for children."

"You don't really believe that," Wanda says, and it's not a question. There's something so certain to her tone and it catches Natasha's attention.

"Maybe," Natasha says, glancing at her before looking at the TV. "I don't know about love, but—I guess, as screwed up as it sounds, I kind of envied him for a moment." She shrugs a shoulder. "He has someone that's afraid to lose him."

"Natasha—"

"No, I know," Natasha interrupts. "I have you and the team. I have more strings now than I ever did before, and I'm grateful. I _am_. But this is different." She exhales a laugh and then turns to find Wanda staring at her, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed a little. "Hey," she says, reaching over to brush the girl's hair from her face. "Your odds are way better than mine. It will be better for you." Wanda swallows, wiping at the corners of her eyes. "You've always had people that cared for you. You know what love is _supposed_ to feel like. You'll be just fine."

"You have love in your life, too, Natasha," Wanda says, and Natasha can tell that the girl means it. It's sweet.

"Thanks," Natasha says, and then leans forward, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table. Wanda shifts a little closer, but Natasha doesn't mind.

... ...

Clint and Laura invite everyone to the farm for dinner one night in October, and, okay, maybe that's because Natasha put it in their heads to do so, but whatever. It's been a while since they've been together, because obviously they can't take the same days off—not often, anyway. But one night isn't such a big deal.

Lila and Cooper had roped them all into going outside and raking leaves so they can jump into piles of them, and then Lila says that she wanted to make s'mores around the campfire for dessert, so Sam and Pepper get started on the wood while Steve and Clint start grilling. Pietro and Rhodey are still running around in the leaves with Lila and Cooper, and Wanda's sitting with Baby Nathaniel cradled in her arms as she, Tony, and Maria are on the patio swing. It's mostly Wanda and Maria doing the talking, but Tony chimes in a few times, and once or twice he actually gets a laugh out of the girl, so it's fine. Pietro and Wanda have had a chance to sort of warm up to him a little more, so this? This is definitely some big progress.

Natasha is in the kitchen with Laura, the two of them sitting at the table as the potatoes bake and the vegetables steam, and Laura is in the middle of explaining Lila's latest art project when Wanda walks in, cooing to a fussy Baby Nathaniel.

Laura's eyes brighten at the sight of him and it makes Natasha smile.

"Looks like he's finally hungry," Laura says as she stands, taking him from Wanda. "Time for dinner, huh, little guy?" He lets out a cry. "Alright, alright. Natasha, can you—"

"I'll finish up in here," Natasha finishes. "Duty calls, right?"

" _All_ the time," Laura breathes out on a laugh, shifting Nathaniel so that he's more comfortable in her arms as she heads up the stairs.

Wanda smiles, watching them go, and then sits in Laura's empty chair opposite of Natasha as she glances around the house. "It's nice, what they have here," she says, her soft tone belittling the surprise in her eyes. Natasha smiles a little and sips her wine. (That had been her first reaction, too.) "Clint is lucky to have this for himself."

"Clint is lucky to have _Laura_ ," Natasha agrees. "This wouldn't be possible if she wasn't willing to wait every time he had to leave—if she wasn't willing to take the good with the bad."

"If she wasn't so afraid of losing him," Wanda guesses, watching Natasha with a strange expression – careful, with something in her eyes weighing down the brightness Natasha had come to expect from the girl.

It's unsettling.

Before Natasha can begin to ask what could be bothering Wanda, however, the door bursts open as Lila and Cooper hurry inside, Steve and Pietro jogging in behind them. Cooper and Lila erupt into breathless cheers, evidently having beat them in a race inside the house, and Steve catches her eyes over the tops of their heads and winks. Natasha grins and takes another sip. When she glances back at Wanda, the girl is smiling as brightly as ever. "Alright, champs," Pietro says, nudging Lila and Cooper forward. "Wash up. Dinner is almost ready."

Lila and Cooper take off again, heading down the hallway for the bathroom. Steve walks over and sets a hand over the back of her chair.

Natasha tilts her head back as she offers her glass. "Want a taste?"

"Since when did you share your wine?" he teases, but she can tell by the furrow of his eyebrows that he's been distracted. "When did this happen?" He brushes the pad of his thumb over the dip of her neck, over the scar she knows must still be there from her little mishap in Shanghai the other day.

"Last week," she answers. He just blinks, still smoothing his thumb over the spot. She feels a tingle slide down her spine. "Relax. It was barely a scratch."

"Still enough to leave a mark," he murmurs. It's so low that she's sure she wasn't actually meant to hear it. "It got pretty close to your neck, huh?"

"Steve," she says, so he'll meet her gaze. His expression is calm, almost nonchalant, even, but she can see the concern in it. She knows he worries about her, that he worries about all of them getting hurt, but something about this time feels different. "I'm alright," she tells him.

It's familiar, the way he looks over her, as if needing to affirm it himself, before meeting her eyes again and nodding. A pause follows, but then the door swings open again, chatter filling the room as everyone starts filing in, and Natasha feels herself let out a breath she hadn't realizes she'd been holding. She nudges the chair next to hers, raising an eyebrow at him, and he grins a little as he sits down. Then Pepper says his name, grabbing his attention, and Natasha glances away to find Wanda staring at her with another strange expression.

... ...

She runs into him at the airport in the middle of the night, after her mission in Cabo and his in Sydney, and somehow she's not all that surprised, even though their flights hadn't been planned this way. He pulls her into a hug and then grabs the strap of her duffel, hooking it over his shoulder as he falls into step beside her. She tried not to, but she'd taken a nap on the flight, and now she's a little too awake. It's not a big deal, though. As far as she knows, there's nothing pressing for her to deal with in the morning. She can afford to sleep in a bit.

"Feel like grabbing a bite?" Steve asks, and she grins a little. He knows she always has an appetite right after a mission.

They end up at the 24-hour Starbucks down the block from their apartments, and she sits across the table from him, watching as he polishes off two cheese Danishes and a bagel with cream cheese and half of his coffee before she's gotten halfway through her chocolate croissant. Not that this is new to her or anything, but still.

"What?" he asks after swallowing a gulp of coffee and wiping his lips with a napkin.

She grins. "Are you always this well-mannered, or am I a special case?"

He chuckles, sitting back in his chair. "That bad, huh?" he asks, tearing off a piece of his muffin.

"Barbaric, really," she teases. Her foot brushes against his as she crosses her legs. "At this rate, you may never get a girl to date you."

"Ah, well." He gives her a smile, small but sincere, and her heart does that stupid fluttering thing as he says, "Guess that means you're stuck with me."

There's a retort or two already on the tip of her tongue – _how awful, talk about a consolation prize_ – but his tone lingers in the air between them, his words sounding far too much like some kind of promise to her ears, and she's not quite sure what she wants to do with it. He holds her stare, and there's something about it that sort of takes her breath away.

"Yeah," she says after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I am."


	2. agape

**Title:** _I'm Dying to Catch My Breath_ [2/3] _  
_ **Rating:** PG-13 (this chapter) / M (overall)  
 **Word Count:** ~6,100 (this chapter)  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, basically everyone else  
 **Prompts:** a lot  
 **Summary:** She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.

 **A/N:** I may go back and edit the little mistakes because there are probably a dozen of them, but I'm not going to right now because I'm trying to get this posted before I leave for work because – confession time: it actually took maybe two whole weeks, total, to get this written out. There were just really long breaks in between in the three months it took to finally get it posted. I kept reordering events in my head and rewriting scenes and then I just didn't touch it all for a period of time, but no, I didn't forget about this story. Not for long, anyway.

Fingers crossed that Part 3 doesn't take another three months. It shouldn't, now that I settled on a general timeline for the rest, but who knows?

 **I'm Dying to Catch My Breath [2/3]**

Something has been bothering Wanda for a few weeks now and Natasha's definitely noticed.

She knows Pietro has, too, because sometimes Wanda will get this look on her face in the middle of making dinner, so distracted by her thoughts that her water almost boils over, or she nearly drops a glass onto the tile. It doesn't happen on missions, which is really the only reason why Natasha lets it slide, but still. She's tried a bit of prodding, a few questions to push her into spilling, but not much. Wanda isn't just some target, and as curious as Natasha is, they're _friends_. She knows that when Wanda is ready to talk about it, she'll bring it up.

(Or Pietro will squeeze it out of her. Whatever comes first will suffice.)

"Give her time," Steve tells her during one of their morning runs. The snow came down heavy last night, and running in it so early in the morning probably isn't the best idea, but whatever. They can take a little cold. "Wanda trusts you, probably the most after her brother. She'll come to you about whatever it is when she's ready."

"I know," she says, her breath coming out in a puff. They've been at this for over half an hour now and her lungs are starting to burn. The crisp air probably doesn't help.

She catches his smile in her peripheral as they round the corner into the park. "You worry about her."

"Kind of hard not to. We're roommates."

He can tell from the breathiness in her voice her that she's starting to fade, so he gives this little tug on her arm, slowing their jog to a walk. She's always the first to get tired during these runs, which doesn't bother her or anything since the guy is, you know, a _super soldier_. But still. He could probably get in a better workout if he actually pushed himself instead of trying to keep pace with her, yet she can see that look in his eyes whenever she suggests that they do their own thing – something akin to reluctance, maybe even disappointment.

She tries not to think about it too much, but at the end of the day, with all the distractions gone, that's where her thoughts always end up.

"No, it's more than that." He gives her this little grin, his cheeks a little flushed from the cold. A grown man should not be so adorable, yet here he is. "You care for both of them."

"Yeah," she breathes, turning to him. "Weird, huh?"

"Nah," he says. "I mean, I kind of figured you had feelings somewhere in there."

" _Shut up_ ," she laughs, punching his arm. He actually scoffs at her, smirking a bit as he bats her hand away. "You're an ass, you know that?" She punches his shoulder again and he doesn't even budge. Damn super soldier. "Whatever," she huffs out, and he shoves her arm playfully, except it sort of sends her stumbling into the snow.

"Oh, shit," she hears him say, already moving to help her up, but she just starts laughing and his worry eases into a smile of his own. "Sometimes I forget how small you are."

She's up in seconds, running at him with as much force as she can muster, and he actually stumbles back at the impact, sending them both into another pile of snow.

She's still laughing, still breathless from their run, and she can feel his chest rumbling underneath hers where they're pressed together as he laughs, too. She curls her gloved hand around a chunk of snow and crushes it against the side of his face, flakes getting into his hair and falling down his neck, and he flinches away from the cold, hand coming up to snatch her wrist before she can do it again. She moves her other arm but he grabs hold of it, too, keeping her in place, and her laughter softens into a chuckle as she peers down at him.

"I give, I give," he breathes. He smiles up at her and she feels a warmth low in her stomach as he holds her gaze.

"Good," she says. She should probably get up now, but she doesn't really want to, so they stay like this a moment longer, her heart beating hard in her chest.

... ...

Tony proposes the first week of November, when they're all over for a dinner that Pepper thinks is an early Thanksgiving celebration since half of them aren't even going to be in the country that weekend. Natasha knew it was going to happen, but only because Maria did, and Natasha had noticed the woman rearranging schedules and meetings so that they'd all have tonight off. Maria is good at keeping secrets, but if Natasha is the one prodding, she doesn't usually put up much of a fight. She knows Natasha will just find out sooner or later.

Pepper cries only a little, but she has this _bright_ smile on her face, at it takes her a second to compose herself enough to actually say yes.

Natasha is sitting next to Steve at the dinner table when it happens, and she glances at him in her peripheral without really meaning to. His lips are parted ever so slightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners as he watches. She wants to know what he's thinking about.

Tony brings out the champagne after, of course, and they sit around the coffee table and talk about nothing in particular.

Lila and Cooper fall asleep within the half hour after dinner, and Clint goes to move them into the guest bedroom, comes back and drops a kiss atop Laura's head before peering down at Baby Nathaniel fast asleep in his mother's arms. Pepper and Tony are lounging on the sectional beside them, Pepper tucked into his side, her left hand holding onto her champagne flute, ring glittering under the low light. Her cheeks are still flushed, and probably will be all night. They look happy, all of them, and something tugs at Natasha's chest as she watches.

Sitting on the floor at her feet, Steve laughs at something Helen says, shoulders pressing against her leg with the motion, and Natasha ignores the tingle of her skin.

(She'll blame it on the champagne if she has to.)

"Okay, your turn," Tony says, tipping the neck of his beer bottle towards Natasha. The conversation drifted over to work, but they're all a little buzzed and totally relaxed, and telling ridiculous stories about being in the field is actually pretty fun right now. "Craziest thing you've done for a cover?"

Natasha hums, brings her champagne flute to her lips. "Does pretending to like you as a boss count?"

There're a few laughs, and Clint reaches over for a fist bump.

Tony narrows his eyes at her, but he's smiling, too, so it's fine. "Alright, alright," he says, waving a hand. "But, I'd just like to point out that in the spirit of sharing super-secret spy stories, Maria and Clint participated. So you're just being a spoilsport." Natasha just grins and sips her drink. "What about you, Cap? What undercover adventures have you gone on?"

"None, actually," Steve answers with a bit of a laugh. "My thing was more stealth, not espionage. I've run back-up for Natasha a few times, though. Does that count?"

"No," Tony replies flatly. "So, you're telling me in the—what, two?—years you worked for SHIELD, you never _once_ went undercover?"

Steve shrugs a shoulder. "If you want to be technical, that one time in DC would count on a debrief report," he says, eyes squinted in thought. "Natasha and I pretended to be engaged for a moment, and then there was the kiss on the escalator—"

"You two _kissed?_ " Laura interrupts.

"For a _cover_ ," Natasha says. Laura grins. She looks way too amused by this. "We were evading Hydra."

"And your evasive maneuver demanded a make-out?" Maria asks, smirk tugging at his lips.

Natasha rolls her eyes, feels her stomach flip strangely, but Steve is talking before she retort. "Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," he says, and then tips his head back to meet her eyes, lips tugging into a smile. She remembers how ridiculous he looked that day in those glasses, remembers the slight look of panic he got at her suggestion to kiss as a distraction. It's hilarious to think about it now, actually, how this man who didn't so much as _blink_ in the face of death had been thrown so off-guard by such a simple kiss.

He really had just jumped to conclusions that day, too. She didn't have any complaints on how he kissed her. She kind of liked it.

She can't remember the last time someone kissed her with that kind of care, like they were afraid of breaking her. Like she was something precious.

She can't remember someone _ever_ treating her like that, actually.

... ...

"So, you and Steve?"

Natasha stops chewing her sandwich for a moment, glancing over at Maria where the woman is sitting in her huge chair, one elbow propped up on the desk, amusement coloring her expression. Lunch breaks aren't really a thing for them, but sometimes Natasha will bring lunch and they'll eat in her office together before they're both heading off again.

Natasha swallows, uncaps her vitamin water and takes a gulp. "I can't say that I know what you're talking about."

Maria's amusement doesn't fade. "You know, if this has been a thing for that long, it would explain _so much_." She picks another pickle out of her sandwich and drops it to the side. "Of course, I pretty much figured it out on my own, but it's nice to have confirmation from the source."

"Maria," Natasha says. "It's nothing."

"Not yet, anyway," Maria replies. Natasha presses her lips together a little and glances away, wiping at her lips with a paper napkin. "So, you know how Tony was insisting that I get an assistant around here?" Maria asks, and that's really all it takes for the subject to drop. Natasha trusts the woman, and eventually they'll talk about this, whenever the hell Natasha can figure it out for herself. She likes that Maria can understand this. "Well, it looks like he did a bit of meddling, because then I get a call from none other than Jane Foster this morning."

Natasha grins a little, passes Maria her vitamin water as she goes on. She's really missed hanging out with her like this.

... ...

There's a plate of cupcakes sitting on the kitchen table when she comes home, next to a champagne bottle with a cluster of balloons tied to the neck. Natasha pulls the card out from where it's tucked underneath the champagne, smiling as she reads Wanda's swirling script, wishing her a happy birthday and promising to celebrate when they get back from Tokyo.

Natasha has never cared much for her birthday, and she's told the twins this before. She kind of loves that they still want to do a little something for her, anyway.

There's a knock on the door as she's unpacking her duffel, and, _somehow_ , she already knows who it is. Or maybe she knows who she hopes it'll be.

Steve.

He has a plastic bag of takeout in his hand, snowflakes stuck to his hair, eyes bright as he sort of tilts his head at her and as he meets her gaze. She knows she's smiling already, but then he says, "Happy birthday, Natasha," in this soft sort of voice and her lips tug a little wider.

He grins as she steps aside, sets the takeout on the breakfast bar so he can shrug out of his coat. He's wearing a knit sweater underneath. Somehow she's not surprised.

"Not that I'm complaining about a free dinner," she says, leaning her arm against the counter as he tugs his scarf off, "but showing up uninvited doesn't exactly seem your style."

He arches an eyebrow at her. "Did you want me to leave?"

He's teasing her and she knows. This is hardly the first time he's shown up unannounced, and he and Sam gave her _keys_ to their place, so she sort of just lets herself in whenever she wants. But she holds his stare as she says, "No," and he smiles because he knows that she means it. "Try not to eat through my birthday dinner while I hop in the shower, alright?"

He chuckles, giving her a two-fingered salute, and she turns and heads for her bathroom. She's kind of exhausted from her flight, and she definitely isn't in the mood to have company right now, but it's different with Steve. He's one of the few people that can just show up at her door unannounced and decide that he's going to keep her company and not piss her off. She also kind of loves that he brought her dinner from her favorite Chinese place down the way and didn't show up with more balloons and some ridiculous gift tucked under his arm.

Steve has the food set up at the coffee table when she walks back out, a pile of blankets on the couch and the TV turned onto Netflix.

He grins when he sees her, leaning back against the couch. He looks so ridiculously comfy in that sweater, and she has this stupid, fleeting urge to burrow herself in her blankets and curl up against his side and fall asleep to an old movie that they've watched way too many times.

"Hey," he says, smiling when he sees her. "Come on. Birthday girl gets first dibs on whatever she wants and first pick on what we should watch."

She laughs a little, crosses the room and sits herself on the couch, drawing the blankets up around her. He lets her have the last crab wonton and she lets him pick whatever he wants to watch, leans into him ever so slightly when he stretches his arm over the back of the couch, and she catches him smiling in her peripheral as he sips on his champagne.

... ...

Pepper invites her out to brunch on a Tuesday, and it's the first time Natasha has seen the woman in at least a month, if not two. Not that it could really be helped, with Natasha in a different country practically every week at a moment's notice and Pepper booked almost every day for months in advance.

Plus, the woman is sort of planning her wedding, so there's that.

Natasha laughs when Pepper says that they have a date set already, and she just grins in response, like she knows that Natasha hadn't meant that to be offensive.

"You two got engaged barely a month ago." Natasha spears a piece of her waffle with her fork, twirling it at Pepper. "I know you work fast, but already having a date set for summer?"

Pepper shrugs and brings her coffee mug to her lips. "I've always wanted a summer wedding," she admits. "If it's someone else telling me that they wanted to plan a wedding only seven months in advance, I would tell them that they're crazy, too – but, it's _Tony_. And I have a little bit of pull myself. People will help to make it happen." Natasha laughs at this. If anyone can pull something like this off, it would be Pepper Potts. "And why not sooner than later, right? With the way things have always been, you never know what could happen."

Natasha nods, feels herself smile as she glances down at her plate. "You and Tony should go for it," she agrees.

Pepper blinks, eyes widening ever so slightly the way they do whenever she's trying not to be surprised. "You don't think we're just rushing things?" she asks, even though Pepper knows that Natasha wouldn't tell her something she didn't mean.

Natasha laughs with a shake of her head. "There's nothing worse than waiting too long and missing out on something perfect, right?"

"Right," Pepper echoes, smiling, but there's something so incredibly _knowing_ about her expression that Natasha almost has the urge to glance away. It wouldn't be the first time that Pepper seems to know her thoughts before Natasha does. The girl would have made a pretty good spy.

... ...

"They found Barnes."

This is how Tony greets her when he picks her up from the airport. It took two days to do what she could've done in half of one if she hadn't been forced to lose her target when she had a clear path to him, and then her flight back to New York was delayed overnight because of weather. She's _exhausted_ , frankly, but the tight half-smile Tony gives her as she comes down the escalator catches her attention, and then the words are out and she couldn't be more awake, even if half of her is pretty damn convinced that she must be hearing things.

"They dragged him straight to medical. Helen's operating right now." He takes her duffel from her, hooking the strap over his shoulder. "I can take you home, if you want."

Tony looks at her like he's not going to judge her if she takes him up on his offer. Part of her wants to – the part that remembers the way that slug had felt when it hit her hip, the way her blood wet her skin where he'd shot her shoulder. She knows Steve would understand if she didn't want to be anywhere near Bucky at all.

But the other part of her remembers the way soft, pleading tone of Steve's voice when he'd asked her for that favor, the haunted look in his eyes as he took the file from her hand.

She can't leave him. She _can't_.

"Protocol, Stark," she replies. "I have a debriefing to submit."

He holds her gaze a moment longer, trying to see how serious she's being, then nods. She takes the arm he offers and they walk in silence to the car, and if he notices that she grips onto leather seat of the limo a little too tightly, he doesn't say anything. She always knew he had a soft side.

Tony walks with her to her office, sits on the corner of her desk as she takes her time typing out her report. She ends up rewriting the same few sentences at least three times, that's how distracted she is, and even then, she's not sure if anything sounds correct. Maria is the only one who really reads her reports, though, so she's not all that worried about screwing some of the details up. Tony is rather patient through all of this, too, sitting quietly in the chair across from her desk, messing with his phone and glancing at her every so often when he heard a pause in keystrokes. When she's submitted her report and shut her system back down, he asks her again if she wants go home, get some sleep, but she still tells him no.

They head to the hospital wing, down to Emergency, and she sees them at the other end of the hallway – Sam sitting down in one of the chairs, watching as Steve paces.

Steve turns when he hears them, his expression tight with worry, but he eases ever so slightly as he meets her eyes.

"Natasha," he breathes. There's blood on his shirt that makes her stomach do this uneasy flip, but she keeps walking towards him, stretching up as she nears and circling her arms around him in a hug, and he exhales slowly as he eases a little more under her touch. He presses his hand to the small of her back, tucking her in closer.

"Any news?" she hears Tony ask Sam somewhere behind her.

"Still operating," Sam answers as Steve pulls back a little, meeting her eyes. His are wide and wild, and he licks his lips, glancing over her shoulder at the door to operating room.

She presses her hand to his cheek, drawing his eyes back to hers. She gives him a small smile. "He'll be alright," she tells him. "Helen is the best of the best. He couldn't be in better hands," she reminds. Steve presses his lips together, holding her gaze, but she holds her smile as she strokes her thumb over his cheek, and a little more of the worry dissolves from his expression. He holds her gaze as he draws a breath, tension ebbing from his body as he tucks her in close again, pressing his face into the curve of her neck. She closes her eyes.

"Thank you for being here," he murmurs against her neck, his breath tickling her skin. He sounds like he'd still be falling apart if she hadn't shown up.

She can't remember _ever_ being a source of comfort for someone, ever having a genuine pull on their emotions without having to manipulate them herself.

It's _strange_. Not in a bad way, at all, but she just… doesn't know what to think of it.

After a moment, he draws another breath, exhaling slowly as he pulls himself away. His hand lingers on the small of her back, though, and she feels the brush of his fingertips against the sliver of skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans. She wants to change into something more comfortable, at least, but she doesn't want to leave.

"Got a spare change of sweats in your gym locker?" Tony asks her. She nods, and he pulls a hand out of his pocket, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go grab those for you."

"Thanks, Tony," Steve says for her, and she sinks into a chair beside Sam, leaning her head back against the wall. Steve stays standing, but he seems noticeably less tense so that's a good sign. He gives her this small smile before turning his attention back to the operating room.

"Nice of you to be here for him," he says softly, arm bumping against hers as he rests his elbows on the arms of the chair. She doesn't mind, though.

She keeps her eyes on Steve, her own exhaustion ebbing away, little by little. "Where else would I be?" she asks, and Sam gives her this small sort of smile, nodding his head.

... ...

Tony drops her sweats off, offers to drop her duffel in her office for her to get later, and leaves with a clap on Steve's shoulder. Neither of them say anything, but they share a look, a nod of understanding, and she knows that's enough. Then he leaves, and when she slips off to the closest bathroom to change, she comes back just as Helen is stepping out of the operating room, a tired but _bright_ smile on her face as she announces that Bucky is out of critical condition. Steve blows out a breath of relief, giving her a smile when she places her hand on his arm, and then Helen is telling them some of the details of the procedure and what they have to do next to keep him stable, but Natasha is sort of fading out at this point.

They move to a waiting room, and Sam offers to drive her home, but she doesn't mind a little more waiting. The chairs are a lot more comfortable in this room, and she uses Steve's jacket as a sort of pillow as she stretches herself out across two of them.

Sam and Steve are talking quietly, voices hushed. They probably believe that she's already asleep.

"…little surprised by all the visits," Steve is saying. She only catches his voice in bits and pieces. "I know all of you have had terrible encounters with him."

"You care for him, and we care for you," Sam tells him. "Whatever happens, we'll always be right behind you." There's a pause, a quiet moment where she very nearly drifts off to sleep like she knows she wants to, but she feels herself hold on a little longer. "Nice of Natasha to stay, considering their history."

"I knew she would," Steve says simply, easily. "I would have never held it against her if she didn't want to, or if she never showed up, but – somehow I just knew she would."

"You mean a lot to her, Steve," Sam reminds. "She means a lot to you, too."

"More than that." His voice is so soft now, barely above a whisper, but she doesn't sense an ounce of hesitation in it. "I'm in love with her. Have been for a while by now. I'm just—"

"Scared?"

"Terrified." There's a long, still moment of quiet, and his voice grows even softer. "She walked away once before."

She's almost asleep at this point, but she feels the light squeeze in her chest as his words sink in. "You didn't go after her," Sam tells him.

"I didn't know if she wanted me to."

Sam breathes out a laugh, says something in response, but Natasha doesn't catch it. She's already asleep.

... ...

Natasha goes shopping with Wanda downtown a week and a half before Christmas, because Tony is having a party at Stark Industries and of course they're all going. Even Clint and Laura are making the drive with all the kids to spend it with everyone this year, which is kind of a big deal, because she knows it's exactly easy to trek their family into New York.

They hit about four different boutiques in the span of three hours, and she knows that this isn't because Wanda is picky or anything. She just likes shopping.

Natasha couldn't care less, but she's hardly seen Wanda over the last few days, and she kind of loves hanging out with the girl like this. It's crisp out, cold enough to see their breaths as they go from store to store, but neither of them minds. Natasha pays for coffee at this kiosk when they finally make it inside the mall and they sip on their lattes as they walk for a bit, and then Wanda asks about Steve, so Natasha updates her on what Helen had said. It's been almost two weeks since they found him, and when he'd woken up only hours after his operation, everything seemed fine. He was cleared to leave by the end of the week, and he's staying with Steve and Sam, but he spends most of his time with Helen as she runs tests.

Steve is relieved more than anything else, of course, but he's still worried. She doesn't know how Bucky was before, only has a general idea of it from the stories Steve tells her, and honestly, she hasn't spent much time around him since they brought him back. She can tell that something's off, though.

"He just needs time," Natasha tells Wanda. "Steve was the same way."

"What way?" Wanda asks.

"Lost, I guess." Natasha shrugs a shoulder when Wanda glances at her. "Everything they knew was ripped out from underneath them, and every _one_ they knew is pretty much gone. It doesn't help that Bucky has had someone else poking around in his head, pulling on his strings."

"I can only imagine," Wanda says softly, guilt crossing her expression, and Natasha feels her chest squeezes in regret. She hadn't meant to say it like that.

"Hey," Natasha says, and Wanda turns to look at her as she links their arms between them. She gives the girl a look. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she breathes. Her expression relaxes back into a smile. "I do want to talk about what you told me the other night, right before I had to leave for my flight, might I add."

She narrows her eyes at Natasha ever so slightly and Natasha just laughs. She'd told Wanda about what she overhead Sam and Steve say in the hospital that night, when she was dropping the girl off at the airport. She hadn't really planned to say anything, mostly because she didn't know what to think of it – and she still doesn't, really – but the words were out before she could really help it, and the expression Wanda had given her had been strange. She hadn't seemed surprised, really. It seemed a little more like she was caught off-guard.

"Be honest with me, Wanda," she says, meeting the girl's eyes. "Did you already know something about it?"

She hesitates, except Natasha can tell it's not because she doesn't want to tell her. She's just unsure of how to put something into words.

"I've… known for a while, actually." She glances away for a moment, making a face, and when she meets Natasha's eyes again, her expression is almost embarrassed. "It happened by accident a few months back, but I got a glimpse of your thoughts one day, and then the same thing happened with Steve when we'd been training—and I didn't know how to tell you."

"I wouldn't have been upset," Natasha says, which is true. She knows the girl isn't one to pry, at least, not anymore.

"It's not that. It's just…" She trails off, licking her lips in thought. "I wanted to tell you, both of you, but I also didn't want to meddle," she says after a moment.

Natasha nods in understanding, but her thoughts are still stuck on her words.

She's known for a few months now. She's known about how they've felt, about how things were beginning to change for them, for _months_.

"Natasha," Wanda says softly, and she meets the girl's gaze again. "Why haven't you said anything to him?"

She breathes out a laugh, shakes her head ever so slightly. "Even if he feels the same way, he still deserves _better_ ," she says. It's true. It's always been true, and she's known this. Ever since New York, and Washington D.C. She's known that his trust in her could've been entirely too misplaced. He, since that first day, has always believed in her, and she's been terrified ever since that he'd find out all the reasons she didn't deserve it. Then, even after all her secrets came out, even after all the lies, he told her trusted her and she knew that he'd meant it. She thinks about that day in the cemetery, the look in his eyes, asking her to stay, but she didn't. "He deserves someone who can stand by him no matter what."

Wanda blinks, eyes dotting with tears. Natasha remembers the last time the girl had looked at her like this, voice soft as she insisted that she had love in her life.

She wonders, now, if the girl had been talking about Steve. But she knows that Wanda had meant herself, too.

"You've always stood beside him, Natasha," Wanda tells her. Natasha glances away, and for a moment, she thinks about Sokovia – how she'd stood with him on the edge of the falling city, and how she knew that nothing could have pulled her from his side. "Maybe you're exactly what he deserves," Wanda says, voice almost urging.

"Maybe," Natasha echoes, and then sips her latte, not knowing what else to say.

... ...

Christmas Eve, she stands in huge ballroom, sips on her wine and talks over the holiday music trailing through the air. She wears a champagne dress that falls off of her shoulders and grazes the floor by her heels, her hair braided into a crown atop her head, because Wanda had wanted to try something new on her.

Steve stands by her side all night, or doesn't leave it for very long, and both Maria and Laura give her looks whenever Steve isn't paying attention, but she ignores them. Clint seems entirely too amused by it, too, so he gets a light elbow to his ribs as she passes, and he murmurs a curse under his breath at her laugh when she walks away. Steve smiles when he sees her, slides a hand over the small of her back as he asks what's so funny, and she just shakes her head and asks if he had a chance to catch up with Sharon yet. She knows they did, because she'd seen them talking earlier, and she _knows_ that they're just friends. She's always liked Sharon, too, so it's stupid that the sight had made her chest tighten slightly.

("Would you be okay if he was in love with someone else?" Wanda had asked, but she'd known the answer without Natasha having to say anything.)

A few hours later, Natasha steps onto the balcony for some air, and there are already a few people out here, too, so she walks around the corner until she's out of sight. She leans her arms against the railing, staring out over the city. It stopped snowing this morning, but the air is still crisp, the breeze biting her cheeks. She hardly notices, though.

"Not going to jump, are you?"

She smiles at his voice, breathing out a laugh as she turns to meet his eyes. "Would you catch me?"

"Of course," he says easily, not missing a beat. He shrugs out of his blazer and drapes it over her shoulders, and she grabs onto the lapels, pulling it closer. "Need to go home?"

"Just needed a little room to breathe." She glances at him, feeling herself smile. "Not all of us find it easy to be the life of the party, Captain."

He blinks at the word, something crossing his expression, but it's gone before she can tell what it was. He steps closer, arm brushing against hers as he leans against the railing, too. "It's easy when all the conversations are the same," he says. Her lips twitch into a smirk and he nudges his elbow against hers, grinning. "Not much of a party without you, though."

She _laughs_. "I hardly believe that. I thought you were better at lying now, Steve."

He chuckles faintly but shakes his head. "I mean it," he tells her, and she knows he does. She can see it in his eyes. "That's why I came out here after you."

She feels herself smile, glancing down at the city below. Once upon a time, she had been afraid of heights. Jumping out of a helicopter a few dozen times had changed that, and she breathes out another laugh as she remembers this.

"What?" he asks.

She shrugs her shoulder a little. "Just thinking about fear," she tells him, turning to meet his eyes again. "How easily it can be pushed away if you just don't think about it."

If he finds this odd of her to say, it doesn't show. Or maybe he's more attuned to her thoughts than she'd ever given him credit for. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says, and she leans over, her blood thrumming as she tips her head up and presses her lips to his.

He makes this noise low in his throat and it makes her stomach flutter, except she doesn't really hate the sensation, not at all. His hand slides over her hip, sucks her bottom lip between his and draws this soft sound of surprise. He squeezes over her hip ever so slightly, drawing her close, and his jacket falls from her shoulders as she lifts her arms, circling them around his neck, but she hardly even notices the rush of cold air against her flushed skin. He flattens his over the small of her back, pressing her flush to him, lifting his other hand up to place it at the column of her neck. His thumb grazes over her jaw as he tips his head a little more, deepening their kiss, and her heart thumps even harder in her chest.

He licks at the seam of her lips, and she parts them instantly, this soft noise coming from her throat as he presses his tongue against hers.

He kisses her until her lungs burn, her head becoming hazy, and she grips the material of his shirt as she pulls herself away to draw a breath, eyes still closed. She can hear how heavy he's breathing, too, and he presses his forehead to hers, her skin tingling at the touch.

"Still afraid?" Her eyes are still closed, she can practically see him smiling when she shakes her head. "Cold?" he asks, rubbing his hand over her arm.

She shakes her head again, lips tugging into a smile of her own as she tips her head up, pressing another kiss to his lips. It's brief this time, but her heartbeat skips all the same.

He follows her lips when she tries to pull back, kissing her a little harder, a little slower, and somewhere in the back of her head, she tells him that she's in love with him.


	3. eros

**Title:** _I'm Dying to Catch My Breath_ [3/3] _  
_ **Rating:** M (this chapter)  
 **Word Count:** ~6,900 (this chapter)  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, basically everyone else  
 **Prompts:** a lot (see tumblr or AO3 version for details)  
 **Summary:** She remembers sitting with him like this a year ago, in another guest bedroom, and no, she doesn't believe in fate. But she doesn't believe in coincidences, either.

 **A/N:** I've already decided that, eventually, I am going to write companion pieces for this story because I had a lot of ideas that I wanted to add to this but chose not to because I felt like it would slow down the pace. I have no idea when those will be under works, but they will be, especially with _Civil War_ still fresh in my mind after watching it so many times this month.

 **I'm Dying to Catch My Breath [3/3]**

She breathes out a laugh as her back hits the training mats, and then Steve is moving over her, keeping her pressed beneath him as his lips slant over hers. Their sparring sessions tend to end like this more and more often when it's just the two of them in the gym and she certainly doesn't have any complaints. Not when he's crowding her space like this, his body large and warm above her as he presses himself even closer, tucking them into their own little world. He kisses her slowly, almost lazily, as if he's trying to savor every second.

She knows she's trying to do that same thing.

Her lungs start to burn for air and she gently scrapes her nails against his ribs, where he's most ticklish, and loves the way his body shudders ever so slightly under her touch as he parts their lips. He presses his forehead to hers, smooths a thumb over the apple of her cheek.

She blinks her eyes open, her stomach flipping a little at the weight of his gaze, at the pure adoration she finds in them, the pure _happiness_.

She leans up, presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, and he follows when she pulls away, dipping his head down to brush a kiss to the column of her neck. She knows she must smell like sweat more than anything else right now, but he hums against her skin, breathing her in and letting out this soft, content sigh. She can't help but smile at this. He's ridiculous.

"You two are never going to get any training done if this is what happens," a voice says, and Steve chuckles above her, lifting his head to watch as Maria walks over to them.

She and Steve hadn't really said anything to anyone about this, _them_ , but mostly because they didn't need to. The others already had their suspicions, and it didn't take long after Christmas for things to sort of come out on their own – at least around the facility. It's not as if it was unusual for her and Steve to be seen together so often, but it obviously drew some stares when he would reach for hand, threading their fingers together as they walked down the hallways, or when he'd press a kiss to her hair before they parted ways. That caused talk, of course, but definitely not as much as Steve kissing her at midnight on New Year's Eve. That party had been rather small, simple, at least compared to all the other parties Tony has thrown, mostly because it had been exclusively for The Avengers and everyone at the facility, away from prying eyes. That's kind of what made it so perfect, too.

And she doesn't hate all of the public affection as much as she thought she might (or, not at all, really). She's already a little bit in love with the fact that Steve can't seem to keep his hands off of her, the way he's always reaching for her, brushing his fingers through her hair, rubbing a hand over her arm.

It feels natural, the way her body leans into his touch, easing into the comfort of it, yet thrumming the way it always has around him.

"Got an assignment for us?" Natasha asks, eying what's in Maria's hands.

"Not quite," Maria answers. Steve moves off of Natasha, pulling her to her feet, and his hand settles over the small of her back. Maria sort of just smiles at them for a moment before holding out the envelopes for them. "Tony wanted to hand these to you himself, but he has a wedding that needs to be planned, so he was in a bit of a rush."

Natasha smiles as she pulls out the photo of Tony and Pepper. It's a shot of the two of them on the terrace of the penthouse, against the backdrop of a pink sunset, lights dotting against the silhouette of the city skyline behind them, with the wedding announcement printed at the bottom. She'd known that Pepper was sending these out, of course, but still.

"Kind of crazy to see it all happening," Steve says, still staring down at the photo.

"It is," Maria agrees, her expression soft now. "Tony is lucky to have what he as with Pepper. Settling down isn't exactly a life that all of us can still live."

"No, it isn't," Steve says, tucking the save-the-date back into its envelope, and Natasha feels her heart skip in her chest. She remembers the conversation that they'd shared months ago, about this same thing – remembers telling him that she thought this life was the only thing she was capable of doing.

 _Guess that makes two of us_ , he'd said.

She wonders how much of that is still true today.

... ...

It's already evening when she and Pietro make their way to the cafeteria of the facility, but they're hardly the only ones still in the building. They're not even the only ones just getting back from an assignment, either, because Steve and Wanda are still suited up where they're sitting at a table in the far corner. Darcy and Sam are with them, too, and Natasha glances at Pietro, watching the guy grin as his eyes find Darcy. The girl has been working as Maria's personal assistant for almost a month now and they all enjoy her presence, especially Pietro.

(The two of them text fairly often. It's cute, and something that she and Wanda make sure to point out whenever his phone lights up with a message.)

It should be ridiculous that seeing Steve is enough for her exhaustion to start to ebb. She hasn't even been gone for a day, and it's not as if she had been distraught just because they were apart, but – she's already in a better mood, and she's not in denial as to why that is. Being around Steve has always made her feel a little more comfortable.

She leans herself against his back, draping her arms around his neck, feeling a flutter of _something_ when his lips tug into a smile before he's even turned to see that it's her.

"Hi," he greets. The color dusting his cheeks shouldn't be adorable to her, but whatever.

"Hey," she says. He blinks, grinning a little more, and she arches an eyebrow at him when he doesn't say anything. "What?"

"Nothing," he laughs, reaching up to curve his fingers over the bend of her elbow, squeezing gently. "I heard you kicked ass today," he says, and she feels her lips tug into a grin at pride that flashes in his eyes. He's never doubted her capability, and it's hardly the first time he's complimented her, but she still loves to hear it. "You look beautiful, by the way."

She _laughs_ , even as her heart skips in her chest. Her hair is a mess and her suit is out of sorts. She hardly looks _beautiful_ , but she knows that he means the compliment.

"You guys are sickeningly cute," Darcy says with a grin.

"Damn right," Steve replies easily, tilting his head to brush a kiss to Natasha's cheek. She just laughs and shakes her head.

... ...

Valentine's Day has never been a holiday Natasha has paid much attention to, and honestly, she doesn't even realize that it's today until Wanda steps out of her room with her hair in curls, slipping into a leather jacket. She looks pretty in her dress, and the girl laughs a little, cheeks coloring when Natasha tells her this. "Who's the lucky guy?" she asks.

"No one," she answers, bracing a hand against the wall as she slips into her heels. "Pietro is no doubt a flirt, but my brother insists that I'm the only girl he'll take out on this night."

Natasha can't help but smile. "That's sweet."

Wanda rolls her eyes, but she's smiling, too. "It's just another way he keeps me from dating."

Natasha laughs – oh, that sounds like Pietro, alright – but doesn't say anything else, because then the door is opening and Pietro is walking in with Steve right behind him. Natasha sits up a little straighter. She had gotten back from Prague around five in the morning and had been asleep until a few hours ago, when Wanda finally nudged her awake so she could have something to eat. She's been sitting on the couch ever since, her hair clipped up into a messy bun, her (Steve's) shirt falling off of one shoulder. She isn't really wearing anything other than a bra and panties underneath because she's been huddled under a blanket, and she's more than comfortable enough with Pietro and Wanda to walk around in just her underwear.

She hadn't expected Steve to be back from Berlin until tomorrow. It's not as if she's embarrassed for him to see her like this or anything, but still.

Then Steve meets her eyes, with a sort of intensity that has a warmth pooling in her stomach, and she couldn't care less about what she is or isn't wearing anymore.

"You look beautiful," Steve tells Wanda, and the girl grins as he kisses her hair.

"Thank you, Steve," she says, and then takes the arm her brother offers her, turning to give Natasha a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Have a good night, you two."

The twins are gone before she or Steve can reply, lock clicking into place, and Steve walks around the couch and leans over to kiss her temple, lips lingering against her skin for a moment before meeting her gaze. She gives him this little smile and tugs her blanket aside, and he sits down beside her, taking her face in his hands as he kisses her.

He licks at the seam of her lips, kissing her a little harder, drawing this soft sound from the back of her throat as she reaches for his shirt, gripping it between her fingers.

They haven't even said _hello_ yet.

Her heart thumps in her chest when he pulls away after a moment, sucking in a breath. Her skin is tingling.

"I didn't think I was going to see you today," she tells him, voice soft. "You didn't rush through the meeting, did you?"

He _smirks_ – fuck, she loves that look on him – and she already knows his answer. He kisses her again, at the corner of her mouth, and then murmurs, "Couldn't help it," against her skin, pushing his thumb along the strap of her bra where it sits over her collarbone. She doesn't know why this little sensation is kind of overwhelming to her right now, but it is, and she shifts closer to him before she can help it. "I wanted to be with my girlfriend tonight," he says, drawing back just enough to meet her eyes again, and she feels her warmth coil tighter. It isn't the first time he's used the word, but she, every time, feels her pulse quicken when she hears it. She doesn't care much for labels, but she loves it coming from him.

She gnaws on her lower lip because she knows it drives him crazy, feels a rush of satisfaction at the way his eyelids flutter, watching the motion.

"Did you bring me a present?" Her voice is practically a whisper, but she knows he hears her.

"No," he says, drawing her even closer.

She gently scrapes her nails down his chest through his cotton shirt, relishing in the low, low noise that comes from the back of his throat. "I have an idea," she tells him.

"Yeah?" he asks, and she can see the real question in his eyes through the haze of desire. He rubs his lips together, and she knows that his hesitation has nothing to do with him not wanting this, not wanting _her_. He wants to be sure, but they've danced around this long enough. She doesn't even know why they did, but evidently, waiting seems to be their thing.

 _Not anymore_.

"Yeah," she breathes, nodding a little too quickly. She might've been embarrassed by her eagerness, but hell. Can you blame her?

His lips twitch into a smile, his expression something akin to _relief_ , but he doesn't move right away, either. "I want us to be sure about this," he tells her. "There's no going back."

No, there isn't, but she was past the point of going back long before she even realized it, and she hopes he can understand this when she breathes out, " _Steve_."

He nods once and then pulls her lips back to his, kissing her hard, until she sees stars.

There's a tenderness to it, too, even as he nips at her lips, and it's dizzying to her how he can make her blood race in anticipation and her heart squeeze in affection all at once. She doesn't understand it, but then his lips slide over her neck, fingers dipping under her shirt, and she forgets to care about anything else except how he feels against her skin.

... ...

"Scared the shit out of me," he breathes, rubbing a hand over her back. She doesn't think he's allowed to be crowding her space while she's getting stitched up in the middle of Emergency, but it's not as if he's in anyone's way, and none of the nurses seem capable of asking him to move.

She doesn't want him to, either.

His lips are pressed against her temple, breath warm against her skin, and she doesn't think he's brought himself to put any more distance than this between them since he had practically thrown himself off of his motorcycle to kneel beside her on that highway. They hadn't been expecting a chase through Chicago, much less with the threat of a bomb that close to the city, but Wanda had gotten the thing far enough into the water that there were no casualties. Well, other than the gash across Natasha's arm and the half a dozen cars that'd been totaled when the getaway van swerved off course, but the drivers that had been injured had seemed more relieved about avoiding the detonation than anything else.

As far as incidents go, this one had been rather contained. Things could've ended very differently if Wanda hadn't been able to get that bomb away in time.

Natasha glances up at the television mounted on the wall. The local news is replaying the footage from earlier, and she watches as Steve drops onto his knees beside her, hands hovering over her body. On the screen, he seems worried, obviously, but certainly not as distressed as she remembers, voice trembling when he had murmured her name over and over again, like he'd been so close to _breaking_. She watches as his body eases ever so slightly when she finally coughs in response, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her.

Kisses her for everyone to see. It's not until now that she's realizing this.

She and Steve had never formally talked about keeping a low profile for the public, but it was sort of just understood for the most part. They're rather private people to begin with, or they try to be, despite the attention that being an Avenger already draws. But she doesn't really mind that people know now.

"With rest, Captain, your girlfriend is going to make a full recovery from this," the nurse tells them, offering a smile as she finishes her stitching.

"Thank you," Steve tells her, voice soft and sincere. He presses a lingering kiss to Natasha's cheek and the nurse gives Natasha polite nod, stepping away to give them space.

"Steve," she says, and he pulls away just enough to meet her eyes. She can still see the fear in his, even though she knows he's more relieved than anything, and it brings her back to her conversation with Wanda a few months ago, about wanting someone to be afraid of losing her. Today, Steve had seemed _terrified_. Her heart skips. "I'm alright," she tells him.

His eyes glance over her, as if needing to see it for himself again, and then he nods once.

He still seems a little shaken. Honestly, so is she. This is hardly the worst wound she's ever gotten, hardly the first time she had been in this kind of danger before, but something about it feels _different_. She doesn't even realize her hand is trembling a little until Steve curls his fingers over hers, squeezing ever so slightly.

"Come here," he murmurs, even though they're already so close, and she closes her eyes as her lips meet his, kissing him until the rest of the world fades away.

... ...

"He's definitely made some improvement," Helen says, bringing her coffee mug up to her lips as she glances out the glass walls of the break room overlooking the courtyard, eyes catching where Steve and Bucky are tossing a football back and forth on the grass.

Natasha had only really seen Bucky a few dozen times after his operation until recently, but they can all tell that he's a little different. He's a little _better_.

Helen is probably the only person other than Steve who sees him fairly regularly, and probably Sam, considering the three of them live in the same apartment. Sam seems to take to staying at Maria's more often than not now, though, and Natasha knows that that's not exactly an accident. He and Maria have been a thing for a while now, yeah, but she knows Sam hasn't exactly warmed up to Bucky, either. It may be a while until he does. Until any of them do, really, but he started lingering around the facility more often after his check-ups with Helen over the last couple of weeks and it's helped a bit. They're getting a little more used to his presence and he's a little more used to theirs, even if there's still a bit of wariness.

"He, um," Helen starts, and Natasha looks at her, a little surprised. The woman hardly ever hesitates. "He opened up a little bit more during our session last week," she admits.

"That's good," Natasha says, meaning it. Part of her wants to ask about what, but it isn't really her place to.

"It was rather small, but regardless, it was the first time he's ever opened up without being asked," Helen admits.

Natasha smiles. "He's making a connection."

Helen breathes out a bit of a laugh. Her hair is starting to fall from its clip, and she tucks the strands behind her ear, lips tugging into a soft smile as she continues to watch Bucky below. "Well, I'm his doctor. He sees me at least once a week now," she points out. "He doesn't have much of a choice but to make a connection with me."

"Not necessarily," Natasha says. Helen meets her gaze. "He seemed capable of avoiding the rest of us until recently. Whatever you've been doing with him must be working."

Helen is smiling a little as she glances down, busying herself with her tablet.

The two of them are still sitting at that same table when Steve and Bucky walk in a little later, Bucky spinning the football in his metal hand. "Hey, doc," he greets Helen, the corners of his lips tugging into a bit of a smile – certainly the closest thing to one that Natasha has seen him give to anyone other than Steve. She catches Steve's gaze, and though his own smile is soft, too, his eyes are _bright_ , hopeful. It's rather infectious, too, which is why she's grinning for no particular reason when he drops into the chair beside her and kisses her forehead.

"You smell," she teases, crinkling her nose. Steve scoffs, feigning offense.

"I might have to agree with Nat, buddy," Bucky chimes in, snatching an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table. Helen laughs, and Natasha watches the corner of Bucky's lips twitch into a little more of a smile before he takes a bite of his apple. She glances at Steve in her peripheral, catching the surprise just behind his eyes.

 _Nat_. That's a new one.

... ...

"Tony Stark, step away from my bread pudding."

Natasha glances up from the massive seating chart that Pepper has spread out across the coffee table to see Wanda waving a wooden spoon at Tony as the guy takes a few steps backwards, hands up in surrender. Pietro chuckles from his spot at the kitchen island, snatching a handful of chocolate chips from the bag and pouring them into his mouth. Steve smiles as he shakes his head, reaching between Tony and Wanda to snatch the dish of bread pudding and move it to the table. Wanda grins, satisfied, and Tony just rolls his eyes.

"If you need to keep yourself busy," Steve starts, pushing a stack of plates into Tony's hands before the guy can realize it, "you can set the table."

Tony actually makes a face. "You make your guests set your table?"

"No, but we make you set it," Steve replies, smirking a bit as he arches an eyebrow. Pepper laughs.

"I'm hurt, buddy," Tony says, shaking his head as he walks to the table. "I think I may have to shave a minute or two from your speech time. I think it's come to that."

"What?" Steve asks.

"Your speech," Tony repeats. Steve just looks at him. "Did I not tell you about that?" he asks, voice nonchalant as he busies himself with setting out the plates. Natasha looks at Pepper, who has an amused grin on her face. "Oh, well. I know how much you love speeches, and I was seriously considering having you make one at the wedding reception—"

"I thought Rhodes is the best man," Pietro interrupts. Tony gives him a look but Pietro just pops another chocolate chip into his mouth.

"He is. There can be more than one speech. But after _this_ "—Tony waves a plate at Steve, raising his eyebrows—"I may have to retract my offer."

Natasha can tell that Steve is trying not to smile. "You have to make the offer first in order to retract it, Tony."

Tony shrugs a shoulder. "Fair enough." He sets the last plate down and then turns to face Steve, pausing, because of course Tony Stark likes to be a little bit dramatic. "Steve, would you like to make a speech at our wedding reception?"

Steve smiles. "I would be honored."

Tony nods once, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Good, good," he says, glancing away. Natasha exchanges a look with Pepper, who smiles and rolls her eyes. "Allotted minutes of your speech is still up for debate, but you are welcome to argue your case," Tony adds. Steve just chuckles. "Now, did I do this correctly? I've literally never set a table before."

... ...

Maybe it's more her fault than his, but in all fairness, it started because of him in the first place.

The city of Brooklyn is having a dinner to kick off a youth charity campaign that'll be running through the month of April, and The Avengers will all be attendance to see Steve make a speech and present a philanthropist award. He'll probably be receiving an honor of some sort, too, which would hardly be the first time the mayor would've pulled something like that but, well. When _Captain America_ is from your city, you tend to give him the recognition. Steve usually doesn't like the fuss, but of course he'll make an exception for his hometown.

" _Steve_ ," she gasps, scraping her nails through his hair as he sinks onto one knee in front of her, nudging her legs a little further apart.

He hums, licks a stripe right over the damp, lacy material of her panties, and her back arches off of the wall. She just stepped out of the shower and she'd already sweating.

"We can't," she starts – because they have to be in Brooklyn in less than two hours, and they both have to finish getting ready – but he flattens his tongue over her bundle of nerves and she whimpers, tugging at his hair, tugging him closer despite the protest still stuttering from her lips. "We've got somewhere to be," she manages to say.

"Then we should make the most of this," he says, and then pushes his tongue through her folds just as he's barely pulled her panties down. Her head hits the wall when she moans.

It takes him nothing at all to work her up, knowing what to do to push her towards her high as quickly as possible, and she squeezes her eyes shut that she almost sees stars. He usually loves taking his time with this part, loves teasing her towards that edge and then letting her balance on it until she almost begs for it, because he's a little shit and always has been and of course that would carry over into this aspect of their relationship, too. He learned her body quickly, because he can certainly take orders just as well as he can dish them out (when he _wants_ to, anyway, and that's the part that usually gets them into trouble). She still isn't quite sure if it's a blessing or a curse, but, _god_ , when he uses that mouth of his—

"Oh, _god_ ," she moans, and then he closes his lips around her and grips her hips firmly, keeping her propped upright against the wall as she cries his name, body shaking.

He gives a sweet, languid kiss, making her body jolt, and in the haze of her orgasm, she barely registers him standing up straight and pushing his boxers down.

She lets out whimper when his length presses into her slowly, rubbing against her sensitive folds, and she digs her nails into his biceps as her lips part in a soft gasp. He has a hand braced against the wall, but he brings the other between them, hooking his finger on the thin chain around of his dog tags around her neck.

(Her wearing his tags always, _always_ drives him crazy. He probably knows she meant for him to see her wearing them with nothing but her bra and panties when he walked in.)

"Steve," she says, soft and pleading in a way she only ever uses with him, and he groans from the back of his throat as he starts rolling his hips. His eyelashes flutter a little, like it's too much – like _she's_ too much, but he can't ever get enough – and she thinks she'll never, ever get tired of watching how being with her, being inside her, makes him lose control.

She watches him swallow, watches his throat flex with the motion, and she dips her head forward and closes her lips around his pulse, drawing a louder groan.

" _Nat_ , Nat," he murmurs, and she nips hard at his skin.

Later, when they manage to get themselves dressed and out the door with exactly forty minutes to make it to the hall, they're stopped at a red light when Steve flips down his visor and slides the mirror open. The coloring spots along his neck are _barely_ hidden behind the top of his collar, and she'd offered to cover it up, but the makeup would've just smudged sometime later in the night, so it wouldn't really have made a difference. Steve shakes his head, lips pressed together, and she can tell it's because he's trying not to smirk like she is.

(The mayor laughs when he notices, tells Natasha that she ought to be booked for the destruction of government property, and that sound bite is all over the internet the next day.)

... ...

Pietro keeps flipping through the channels too quickly for Natasha to really see what's on, which isn't really that big of a deal since she's been reading through the potential recruit files that Maria uploaded and Wanda is busy jotting notes in the margins of a cookbook. Natasha's phone is sitting on the couch between her and Wanda, and they both glance down when it buzzes with a message from Steve wishing her goodnight. Wanda smiles, dismissing the notification, and the screen shifts back to the photo of Natasha and Steve set as the wallpaper.

"You both seem happy," Wanda says.

Natasha shrugs a shoulder, but admits, "We are," in this soft voice, feeling herself smile.

Wanda grins a little more and wiggles herself closer to Natasha, leaning to lay her head against Natasha's shoulder. Pietro grins, too, his gaze still directed forward at the screen even though he's not paying much attention to it anymore. He stretches an arm over the back of the couch, giving a little tug to Natasha's hair, which he just does sometimes.

It's kind of ridiculous how attached she's become to these two, to sitting in the living room with them like this, in the quiet comfort of their apartment.

After a moment, Wanda lifts her head from Natasha's shoulder, tapping her finger to the tablet screen to open one of the files. "Spiderman," she reads, sounding intrigued.

"I hate spiders," Pietro comments, then laughs and doesn't try to dodge the pillow Natasha tosses at his head.

... ...

It isn't planned, but Clint and Laura have never minded before when Natasha would show up to their place unannounced, and it certainly isn't the first time she's gotten the urge to do exactly that when coming home from a mission. Protocol is for them to report back to the facility immediately, but she and Steve debriefed with Maria on the jet, and then the woman said that they didn't have to come in, so it's fine. It doesn't take much convincing for Steve to reroute them to the Barton's. She knows he wants to see the kids as much as she does.

Lila and Cooper watch from the porch as Steve lands the jet in the field, and then they're practically jumping at her and Steve once they're heading for the house.

Clint grins at them, standing in the front doorway with Baby Nathaniel at his hip. The little guy is getting more used to seeing Natasha, now, so his face brightens when he recognizes her, and he lets out a babble of excitement. "Hey, fella," she greets. Honestly, if she wasn't still a little dirty from the mission, she'd snatch him right out of his dad's arms.

"I was wondering why my wife made two apple pies for dessert tonight," Clint says, one eyebrow arched.

Natasha grins and shrugs a shoulder. She might've mentioned to Laura the other week that she wanted to see the kids soon. The woman has always had good intuition.

Lila reaches for Steve's hand with both of hers, tugging at it as she bounces on her feet, and Steve chuckles and squeezes her fingers a little in return. It's cute how comfortable Lila and Cooper are with Steve now, considering how they'd been hesitant at first. Not because he'd been a stranger, but because he's _Captain America_. Now he's Uncle Steve, too.

"I saw you and Auntie Nat on the news!"

"Yeah?" He uses his free hand to tap her nose, making her giggle. "What were we doing?"

"You were just taking pictures, but Auntie Nat was in a big dress," Lila tells them. "She was really, really pretty."

"She's always pretty," Steve tells Lila, glancing up at Natasha and winking. She rolls her eyes, smiling. She and Steve had attended a gala with Tony and Pepper the other week, which isn't something Natasha usually gets that dressed up for, but the family throwing it is known for being a bit extravagant, so people kind of go all out when in attendance.

"Are you two getting married or something?" Cooper asks, and Natasha's heart skips a little, even though her voice comes out in an easy laugh.

"Ah, um," Steve starts, breathing out a chuckle the way he does sometimes when he's caught off-guard.

"Can I be your flower girl?" Lila asks, eyes wide with excitement. "Please, please, _please!_ "

"Lila—"

"Give them some room to breathe, guys," Laura interrupts, appearing in the doorway beside Clint as she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel. "Now go wash up so we can all eat once your aunt and uncle get changed," she tells Lila and Cooper, one eyebrow arched, and the two of them nod before bounding into the house. Steve swallows a little, gives Laura a smile of thanks. "I laid out your clothes in the guest bedroom," Laura tells them, lips tugging into a knowing grin as she takes Nathaniel from Clint's arms and then heads inside the house.

Clint chuckles, claps a hand against Steve's shoulder and heads in after his wife, and Steve sort of just shakes his head and doesn't move right away.

She can still see the nervousness (well, not quite that, but something similar) in his eyes when he turns to look at her, but his entire expression eases a little as soon as their eyes meet. Then she gives him this little smile, tucks her fingers into the bend of his elbow, and he smiles, too, dipping his head to kiss her temple as they walk inside.

She likes how easy things are and always have been between them, at least in this aspect. She can comfort him without having to say a word, and he does the same for her.

They've always made a pretty awesome team.

Dinner is loud with laughter the way it always is here, and afterward, Laura spreads out an old sheet over the carpet in the living room and lays down two huge pads of paper for Lila and Cooper to paint on, and Natasha sits with Laura and Nathaniel on the couch while Clint and Steve wash the dishes. Clint has a beer in hand when he walks out of the kitchen a little later and says that he and Steve are going to get a little work done on the bike he has in the shed, which Laura says she's is fine with. She tells him that Steve has a better chance at getting the old thing to run than Clint ever did, earning a scowl from her husband that she just laughs at. This makes Nathaniel laugh, too, and he bounces top of Natasha's thighs as she holds him up. It's the reason why Natasha is laughing when Steve walks in, and he pauses in his stride when he sees her, lips parting ever so slightly. His expression makes her heart stutter.

"Any day now, Cap," Clint calls out, already heading for the door. Steve gives Natasha this little smile, holding her gaze a moment longer before following Clint outside.

Laura is _beaming_ when Natasha looks at the woman, but she doesn't say anything, either, which Natasha is grateful for. She feels a little overwhelmed right now, but it feels _good_.

Her thoughts never used to drift onto things like marriage and kids and whatnot. It had never really been an option for her, so she could probably count on one hand the number of times she'd actually found these things crossing her mind, when she had been feeling particularly low and apparently needed to make things hurt a little more.

She and Steve have yet to talk about their future together. Part of that has to do with the fact that they're letting things happen on their own, and she knows – they both know – that it's there, that they'll have a conversation about all of this when they're ready. That's kind of the catch, though. She doesn't really know when she'll be ready, _if_ she'll be ready. Because she can actually picture something like that for herself and Steve and she's never had that before. She's never _wanted_ it before, not as much as she thinks she wants it now, and it's—

It's _strange_. Not in a bad way, but still.

Half an hour goes by before Nathaniel falls asleep, and after Laura puts him down in the nursery, she tells Lila and Cooper to head upstairs and start their baths. Natasha offers to clean up, but Laura just grins and tells her to make Clint do it, which sounds like a better idea, so Natasha heads outside and over to the shed.

She can hear Steve and Clint talking, and Natasha feels herself slow in her steps as she gets closer and their words are clearer. She's always been a nosy person.

"You two have been through hell and back together," Clint is telling Steve. "It's kind of disturbing how in sync you've always been, even when you weren't." Natasha can't help but roll her eyes. Clint has never been that great with wording things. "You guys wouldn't have trouble settling down, and I know it's something you both consider, even if you won't say it."

"It's not something I thought I still wanted," Steve admits. "I'd figured that was something the old me had missed out on."

"There is no _old you_ or _new you_ ," Clint says with a bit of a laugh, managing to sound sympathetic and maybe a little bit condescending at the same time. "There's just _you_ , and there's nothing wrong with wanting the same things you did sixty years ago, even if the circumstances are different. Dreams change a little, or a lot. Happens when people grow up. The thing with you is that, as much as all of it sucked, maybe you needed to skip over all those years so you could finally meet the woman who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with."

It was probably the closest Clint would ever get to indulging in the idea of destiny, and under another circumstance, Natasha would've laughed.

There's a pause long enough where Natasha considers finally walking into the shed, but then Steve speaks. "You think the quiet life is still in the cards for Captain America?"

Clint exhales a laugh. "Dude, you're both too stubborn for that, especially her. If Black Widow wanted two kids and a dog and white picket fence and all that crap, you know for damn sure the only one who could get in her way is herself." Natasha smiles a little at that. Then he continues, voice softer, "You love her. That's the only part that really matters."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, not an ounce of uncertainty in his tone.

She expects one of them to say something else, but after a long moment of quiet, she finally crosses the small distance to the shed, drawing their attention as she walks in. Steve smiles at her. If he'd thought that she'd been listening, he doesn't let it on. "Clean-up duty calls," Natasha tells Clint, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Clint groans a little, wiping a hand over his face, but he's still pretty quick to head for the house. It's funny how he pretends like he doesn't actually love this whole parenting thing.

Natasha turns to Steve again, smiling a little wider, and he sets his beer bottle down on the work bench and slides his hands over her hips, pulling her flush against his chest, and she wraps her arms around his chest as she leans into him, head tipped up to hold his gaze. He circles his arms around her, too, holding her close, and she tucks herself against him as close as possible. It should be ridiculous how comfortable she feels right here in his arms, how _safe_ she feels, but she doesn't even care. It's kind of the best feeling she's ever had.

... ...

She's sitting cross-legged on her bed after Tony and Pepper's rehearsal dinner, rubbing lotion onto her arms, and she can't quite tell if her skin is warm from her shower or from the glasses of wine she'd had to drink earlier in the evening. It feels _good_ either way, and then Steve steps out of her bathroom in just his briefs, drying his hair with a towel, and she feels warm for a different reason. She really shouldn't entertain these thoughts, but whatever. It wouldn't be the first time they get carried away while the twins were still in the apartment.

(They're pretty great at keeping quiet.)

He grins at her, dropping his towel into her hamper as he passes it, and then he sits beside her on the bed, pressing a kiss to her flushed cheek.

"I love you," she tells him. She'd stood with him inside that beautiful church all day as they went through the motions of tomorrow's ceremony, and she would be lying if she said she didn't picture once or twice (or maybe half a dozen times) what it would be like to walk down that aisle with Steve standing there waiting for her at the other end.

The way he's smiling tells her that he was probably thinking the same things. "I love you, too," he says, and then she takes his face in her hands, bringing his lips to hers in a kiss. He kisses her slowly, moving over her until she's lying down on the bed and he's pressed above her, her legs hooked around his hips as he slides his right hand over her left.

His thumb passes over her finger once, twice, her heart skipping a little in her chest. He's not asking her the question quite yet, but she knows they'll get there soon enough.


End file.
